Tuesday, August 19, 2008

As of today, my honey and I have been together for two years. Maybe to those who have been together 10, 20, or 30 years this isn’t much. To us, however, it’s a pretty big deal. This is the longest relationship I’ve ever had, and the longest he’s ever had, too. We’ve seen two Christmases, two Valentines, four birthdays, 104 weekends, six vacations, nine living situations, more than 100 bottles of wine, and about a bazillion calories.

In our first month together. Young and free. Tan and pale.

It all started when my last boyfriend, Greg’s former roommate, broke up with me after a year-long relationship. I was heartbroken, but knew deep down that it was the right thing. In the midst of it all, I got text messages from Greg, letting me know he was coming back from his job as a camp counselor in Minnesota. Before he left for camp, we had become pretty good friends. He had texted me occasionally throughout the summer, telling me about when he set himself on fire (really), when he was out at bars, and just chit-chatting with me from across the continental United States. So, about three weeks after the breakup and only a few days after Greg’s return to Oklahoma, I invited him to my digs for a bottle of wine.

At the time, my “digs” were at the house of a family for whom I was a live-in babysitter/tenant. Not knowing what kind of wine Greg preferred, I bought a bottle of red and a bottle of white. (And yes, I did sing the Billy Joel song as I bought them.) I remember feeling very grown up, inviting Greg over to drink wine with me and stroll around the large, wooded lot the house occupied. I put the kiddos to bed before he came over that evening, and felt a little nervous. I didn’t know if he was coming over as just a friend, or if – like me – he had other ideas about the situation. Needless to say, we were on the same wavelength.

Our first New Year's Eve together. I thought he looked like a rock star.

It wasn’t exactly the most perfect first date. We drank our wine, and it began raining outside, so I couldn’t have the romantic stroll around the pond that I had planned. The youngest child, a needy boy of 10, kept coming down the stairs to see what we were doing and ask when his parents would be home. We looked at pictures of my semester in Ireland (from which I had returned the previous fall), and I did everything I could to get up frequently enough that I could sit down each time a bit closer to Greg on the love seat. After we started the second bottle of wine, I had my legs in his lap and was practically nose-to-nose with him.

My shy boy took a while, but by the end of the night, he had kissed me, and we had stayed up all night long, talking and laughing, and… well… doing other things. Just a few months later we were on our first ski trip together, and we were both desperately in love. A year after that, we were engaged, and planning the wedding. Now, in just 7 short weeks, we will be walking down the aisle together, making our life. Who knew when I kissed this boy, thinking it was going to become nothing more than a “rebound relationship” that I would be finding the love of my life?

Greg is one of those people who will continue to grow and change through the years in the most interesting ways. He’s constantly working to improve himself, his art, and his life, and it’s a wonder to me to see what new things he comes up with every day. He’s creative and wildly inventive, and the two together means we have fun in whatever we do – whether it be a nice vacation with his parents or just playing around the house for an evening, putting pigtails in his hair and acting like a goof.

Our trip to Scotsdale before the engagement. A year in and still enamored.

So, here’s to two years of love, laughter and happiness, and to many, many more.